


The Truth about Harry and Ron

by abigail89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written as a birthday gift for The Treacle Tart in March 2005.  And well before the ending of the Harry Potter series, so details are not canon-compliant.</p><p>Inspired by, but not related to, The Tart’s magnificent story <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/thetreacletart/34931.html">“The Tao of Diogenes.”</a>  I stole her Ron and Severus, but took them in a slightly different direction.</p><p>A humungous thanks to magicofisis for the gracious, on-the-fly beta.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Truth about Harry and Ron

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for The Treacle Tart in March 2005. And well before the ending of the Harry Potter series, so details are not canon-compliant.
> 
> Inspired by, but not related to, The Tart’s magnificent story [“The Tao of Diogenes.”](http://www.livejournal.com/users/thetreacletart/34931.html) I stole her Ron and Severus, but took them in a slightly different direction.
> 
> A humungous thanks to magicofisis for the gracious, on-the-fly beta.

*~*

  
SLAM!

BANG!

“Buggering, goddamn, sodding _bastard!”_

Remus looked up serenely from the large book in his lap and sighed. _Third time this week,_ he thought. It was getting old, truth be told. And there seemed to be no end in sight, at least not until the truth could be revealed. Reluctantly closing the tome, he stood and made his way to the kitchen to confront yet again another angry tirade.

Harry Potter stood with his back to the doorway, looking out of the kitchen window onto the garden. Remus could tell even without seeing the face that the young man’s teeth were clenched so hard that it made the muscles in his jaws pop. His hands were balled tightly into fists, so much so that the nails made red dents in the palms. His breathing was labored and furious. The stream of profanity continued, now toned to a low muttering, but the invectives were just as harsh and biting. Unlike most days though, Remus swore that the hair on the back of Harry’s neck was standing on edge, a sure sign that the cause of this posture was not the result of a random run-in with Draco Malfoy or a bad day teaching students defensive magical skills or even the defeat of the All-England Quidditch team.

Oh, no. The only thing on the face of the planet that could elicit this kind of magical reaction was anything having to do with Severus Snape—Potions master extraordinaire, assistant head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, for acts of bravery in the last war against the Dark Forces, and current lover of his best mate.

To say that Harry had problems accepting the fact the Ron Weasley was involved with Snape was like saying Voldemort had had mere delusions of grandeur. While outwardly pleased that Ron was with someone who made him somewhat happy, Harry seethed with jealousy. Remus knew for a fact that Harry was still very much in love with Ron, despite their on-again, off-again status. It wasn’t that he and Ron had given up, Harry had explained one night, it’s just that both had agreed to be in relationships with others before settling down for good. And they did. Harry and Ron both entered into and quickly fell out of them. But it seemed not to deter them.

However, at their last “State of THE Relationship” meeting—one they held religiously every quarter Ron asked Harry if he could explore “something” with Snape. Harry had not been expecting that. Relationships with faceless, meaningless names were fine. But this one, this one hit a little close to home. Harry had come to Remus depressed and angry that night, asking the werewolf to allow him to live with him during Ron’s “Snape exploration.” Remus jokingly said that if Hogwarts Castle wasn’t big enough for the three of them, then neither was the island nation; Harry had nearly fallen apart, something that had never happened before when Ron took up with someone else.

Frankly, Remus thought both of them were nuts. He certainly didn’t understand why the two young men insisted on such a silly arrangement, especially since it was clear to everyone that they were soul mates. And he most certainly did _not_ understand why Ron’s entering into another, short-term arrangement with another man, and Severus Snape at that, would provoke such a grief-filled response from Harry. Unless…

It was then that Remus divined, more than just a little amazed, that Harry probably had some feelings for Snape, although Harry would rather give himself up to Malfoy for torture than admit it.

No, Remus was almost certain Harry was jealous _of_ Ron. Snape and Harry had started a slow dance of friendship even before the war. There was undeniable chemistry between the two: both loved a good argument, both were passionate about their sides in that argument, both held grudging respect for each other borne after years of brave acts and sacrifice, and now, both loved Ron. It was a vicious circle, and one that made Remus chuckle at the irony of it all

And four months into the “time when Snape hijacked my best mate,” Remus could not help but smile behind his hand as he cleared his throat.

“Problem at school today, Harry?” he asked, knowing that he would quickly be on the receiving end Harry’s full ire. He carefully pulled out his wand in order to make a hasty shield charm should Harry burst.

Harry continued to stand staring out the kitchen window. Suddenly, he snorted and whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of his friend and confidante. “Remus!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, I live here, too. Sometimes I wonder if you realize that,” the older man commented with a smile. “Butterbeer?”

“God, yes!” Harry spat, as he sagged against the kitchen counter, his arms folded tightly against his chest. He continued to breathe heavily, even as Remus crossed the room to hand him a bottle. Remus noticed that his cheeks were flushed.

“Harry, would you like to sit and talk about whatever it is—“

“Oh, it’s not whatever, more like whoever, and that whoever is that no-good, sonofabitch Snape.”

“Really?”

Harry finally looked up at Remus’s kind face, and couldn’t help but grin himself. “Why is it that you always know what to say to me?”

“I wasn’t aware that I said anything, profound or otherwise,” he said, as he gestured for the two of them to repair to the lounge and comfortable chairs before the fire. “It usually takes you about four minutes to settle down from whatever it is that Severus has said or done to you that day, and then you are my rational Harry once again. Why don’t we sit so you can gather all your thoughts about what it is that has made you so upset.” Remus kept his tone even and gentle as they walked to the warm room.

Harry flopped into the large chair and swung his legs up and over the wide, padded arm. He settled into his favorite position, taking a long pull on the butterbeer, and stared into the dancing flames. Remus sat opposite in his chair, pulling the ottoman closer, gratefully placing his aching left leg on its comforting surface. He unconsciously rubbed the quadricep and became lost in the silence.

“Does it hurt much today?” Harry asked, now turning his attention to Remus.

“What? Oh, no. Not much, just a bit of an ache with all the cold weather. It doesn’t hurt much at all.”

Harry snorted again. “Yeah, just another thing to thank dear old Severus for.”

“Harry—“

“Goddamnit, Remus. Where the hell was he? He was supposed to be with you during—“

Remus held up his hands, trying to stem the raging tirade that was building in the chair across from him. “Harry, it does no good to rehash old wounds. I was injured. I got better. End of story.” He quickly took a drink. “I’m alive, and I’m grateful for that. I’m much better off than some,” he said quietly.

The young man’s face dropped; in one fluid motion, Harry swung his legs to the floor and rose to cross the room, where he sat on the ottoman next to Remus’s leg. “Remus, I’m sorry. I-I—“

“It’s all right. Truly.” Remus reached for Harry’s clasped hands. “Now, tell me. What happened today that has gotten you in such a state? Did Severus insult you in front of the student body again or this just more of the same old story?”

Harry’s face remained neutral this time, ignoring the question for the moment and looking at their joined hands. As the moments passed, Harry seemed to relax, as if all the peace contained in Remus’s soul flowed through the gnarled fingers and into Harry’s scarred ones, flooding Harry’s body like a healing wave. Continuing to stare at their hands, Harry said, “There’s so much history here.” Remus held his breath. “Each bump represents the cruelty of Death Eaters,” he said softly, “the perverseness of human souls twisted by the dark.” He reverently touched the raised knuckles and the crooked fingers, and then freed his right hand, raising it to inspect the web of silvery scars. “And mine, the hand of a murderer—“

“Whose hand took one life so that an entire nation would be free to breathe the purity of freedom.” Remus entwined his fingers with Harry’s again, and squeezed gently. “It does neither of us any good to dwell on what was. What’s done is done, gone and forgiven. We all did what we had to do. Now—“ Remus was determined to pull out of words of truth out of Harry--“what was all that fuss earlier about?”

Harry sighed. “You’re right. It’s just the same story.” He paused, his jaw working. “I saw them together today. At lunch. Ron looked—content.” He paused again. Remus was sure Harry was fighting back an overwhelming surge of jealousy and sadness. “He asked how I was. And then he told me he missed me.”

“Ah.”

Harry stood up and walked slowly to the fireplace. He leant his hands against the mantle. “It wasn’t that he said it, it was how he said it. Like he really meant it.”

“I’m sure he did mean it. How long has it been since you just talked?”

“Too long. I really do miss just being with him. Around him.” He continued to stare into the flames.

“And the anger?”

Harry pushed back. “Snape actually smiled at me today.”

The thought made Remus want to bark with laughter, but he changed his mind at the last second, and it came out like a cross between a snort and a choke.

“You okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Remus quickly coughed again. “Butterbeer went down the wrong pipe.” He picked up and took a sip from the neglected bottle. “So do I sense a thaw in the never-ended battle between Hogwarts’ most stubborn professors?” he ventured cautiously.

Now, Harry did laugh, though it was derisive and short-lived. “Hardly, I imagine. He— well, he touched my arm after the staff meeting. Said that I had made a good point about the curriculum changes we’re proposing. I have to tell you that up until this time, Snape has not been happy with the direction of the negotiations for the changes. He said we were making too many concessions to Muggle studies and offering way too many ‘soft’ electives. As if studying Muggle history isn’t valuable, and art and music lessons aren’t important to the development of students’ talents.” He stopped suddenly. “Sorry, you’ve heard all this.”

“Quite all right. You were saying about Severus touching you?” Remus asked, much too curious to allow the comment to pass.

“Well, yeah, he touched me. And then—god, I can’t believe he did this—he asked me if I’d like to meet with him and Professor McGonagall to discuss my ideas for new classes. And he touched me again. That’s when he smiled at me. Remus! Snape never smiles at anyone, least of all me. I think I saw him leer at Ron once, but that was at the Three Broomsticks and he’d just had a couple of rounds of scotch. I’m sure Ron was rubbing him under the table.” Remus blanched at the thought. He remembered that night of drinking, but not that part of the evening’s activities. “Remus, I think he made a pass at me.”

Remus wasn’t expecting that analysis of the situation. “Harry, do you really think Severus Snape would publicly do something like that to you, his apparent sworn enemy? The professor who lives to torture the Boy Who Lived?”

Harry slumped down into his chair again, picked up the butterbeer, and took a long swig. “I don’t know what to think, “ he said after a moment’s contemplation. “He’s been acting rather odd all week. First, he’s been nice to me, as in not saying anything snarky in front of the staff. Next, he’s greeted me at meals. As in ‘Good evening.’ Yesterday, he actually called me ‘Harry.’ Since when I have been anything but ‘Potter’ or even ‘Mr. Potter’ to him? Never, I tell you!”

Remus grabbed his chest in mock horror. “Good heavens, call _The Prophet_.” Harry shot him a glare. “Seriously, perhaps he’s just finally accepted that you have proved to be an excellent teacher and a contributing member of the Hogwarts faculty. I happen to know he does respect your abilities to train students.”

“But it’s been five years.”

“Well, no once can accuse Severus Snape of easily changing his opinions. Look, he is the least adaptable person I’ve ever met. He clings to his opinions and beliefs with the tenacity of a dog with a meat bone. But he can and does accept change only when he’s convinced that it’s worthy. Is this what you’re calling ‘making a pass?’”

“No! He touched my body. My lower back, to be precise. I think he was aiming for my arse.”

Remus then laughed loudly. “Harry, that’s ludicrous, how can you—“

“When the staff room cleared out, that’s when he touched me while he—-while he asked me to his private quarters after dinner.”

Remus stopped smiling. “He did what?”

“You heard me. He asked me to stop by his quarters after dinner tonight.”

“So why aren’t you there?”

”Because—Remus! He asked me to his quarters. As in having a drink with him. As in a date.” Harry was indignant. “What about Ron?”

“Well, what about Ron? Isn’t Ron going to be there?”

“No, Snape told me he’s going to The Burrow tonight to check on his mum; she’s got that blood thing—oh hell, what’s it called?—anemia? Yeah, that’s it, and he’s checking on how the course of potion therapy was going.” Harry was breathing hard. “What does this mean?”

Remus gave the impression of someone deep in thought, when in actuality he was grinning madly. “I think,” he said slowly, “that you should ask Severus yourself.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

“Oh for the love of Merlin, why not?” It was now or never. “Harry, just how do you feel about Severus? Really? No dodging your feelings this time.”

Harry opened his mouth, the words of denial forming on his lips, but Remus forged ahead. “Because every since Ron and Severus started seeing each other, you have been more bent out of shape than I’ve ever seen you. You never reacted like this when Ron took up with the blond American who was the spitting image of Draco Malfoy. You hated him with a passion, especially after he left Ron at that club.” Harry was clearly trying to interject, but Remus would not allow it. He was damn tired of it. “AND yet, you said very little about that. You never objected to Justin Finch-Fletchley, or the Scottish footballer, or the German Healer who was, by the by, my age. No, only when Ron takes up with Severus”—Remus stood and walked over to Harry and leant over him—“when I know damn well that you were trying to gauge how you might take your relationship with him down a different path. Harry, I know you have feelings for Severus, and it’s about time that you own up to them because you’re not _afraid_ for Ron, you are _jealous_ of Ron.”

Harry’s eyes had grown wider as Remus continued his dissertation on the state of his feelings about the Severus/Ron situation. And when the werewolf got in his face and barked the words of truth, he actually backed up as far as the cushion of the chair would allow. Remus was so close that he could see the flecks of burnished gold in the werewolf’s eyes, now glowing with the wisdom of truth. It was hard for him to deny Remus’s words ringing clearly in his head.

I _t’s TRUE! You know he’s RIGHT! chided the small inner voice. He’s been right about you all along. You DO like Severus._

 _Since when has he been ‘Severus’?_

 _Don’t dodge the issue. It’s been ‘Severus’ all along, ever since that night you and he found those students in the forbidden forest and both of you gave them a sound tongue lashing. Ever since you and he started teaching defensive potions and incantations two years ago. Two years, Potter!_

 _But…_

 _But nothing. Remus is right. You respect the overgrown bat. You like the greasy git. Except that he hasn’t been that to you for years now, has he?_

 _Well…_

 _It’s time to be a Gryffindor, Potter. It’s time to face your feelings._

 _Do I have to?_

 _…_  
As Remus stood over Harry, breathing into the younger man’s face, he could see the thoughts spinning. Harry’s deep green eyes darted back and forth, searching for some unseen solution or unacknowledged truth. Finally, Harry closed his eyes, and dropped his face into his hands. Remus did not back off.

“Harry?”

*~*

“Oh god, yes. Right there. Fuck, yes. Oooh, YES!!”

Ron thought that it was quite possible that his cock would explode at any second. Warm, long fingers were wrapped around it, maddeningly not squeezing nearly hard enough to make him come with the fireburst that they usually could. However, the large cock invading his arse was hitting the spot that made him writhe with pleasure with intense regularity. “Are you there yet?” he managed to gasp.

No words came from the owner of the invading cock, but a groan acknowledged that the question had been received and processed intellectually. Suddenly, the fingers tightened and the cock sped up just as Ron heard another groan. The young man closed his eyes, unable to handle so much sensory information entering his sex-addled brain. He was so close, so fucking close…then…

A gasp, and then another, and an even tighter grip on his cock signaled to Ron that his partner had come, and suddenly his own exploded forcefully, warm blobs hitting his chest. The hand expertly adjusted its grip to draw forth every bit of orgasmic pleasure. As it slowly abated, hot, languid kisses covered the back of Ron’s neck, the giver knowing this was his partner’s favorite erogenous zone. Ron could no longer hold himself up on all fours, and so he collapsed—arms first, then hips, then the knees—onto the bed, taking his partner with him. He laid there, panting, warm puffs blowing his hair on the back of his neck.

“Merlin, but that—was excellent,” he managed to pant.

“Mmmm, more than adequate, yes,” said Severus.

They laid quietly spooning but not touching. In their months together, Ron learned that while Severus was more than a good lay, he wasn’t much on touching, cuddling, and comforting. The professor played a fierce game of chess, occasionally beating even Ron; he taught the young Healer many useful potions, including some of the rarer medicinal mixes that Ron had put to use in his practice; he had a great mind for Quidditch strategy, something that surprised Ron, and went willingly to several Chudley Cannon matches, though spent most of the time criticizing the game plan, the players’ skills, the poor condition of the stadium, and the abysmal concessions. Severus loved fish and chips, but only if the fish was fried in a certain manner, which, apparently, the Chudley stadium concessioners did not do. Sometimes it took everything in Ron’s power to not tell Severus to stuff it or leave.

Certainly the sex was more than adequate, despite Severus’s evaluation that evening. The sex was outstanding. What Severus lacked in stamina, he made up for in finesse and knowledge. Ron learned many techniques in foreplay that made him crazy. Severus had a way with his cock that was mind-blowing. Every little thing he learned--every touch, every stab, every pinch—Ron had every intention of sharing with Harry. When they got back together. For good.

Finally, Ron couldn’t stand it. He scooched back into Severus’s chest, daring him to either put his arms around him or push him away. Ron waited patiently, and finally a sigh and long arms surrounded him. He smiled and melted into the warmth.

“Don’t think you’ve won anything, Mr. Weasley. Two minutes, and then I’m getting out of bed.”

“Whatever you say, Severus.”

“Cheeky brat.”

“No, I’m not, and you know that.”

Severus made a non-committal noise and pulled Ron closer. Again, moments passed; Ron could practically hear the gears in Severus’s brain whirling. “No, you aren’t,” the older man said softly.

Ron turned in the arms so fast that he bumped into Severus’s nose. “Ow!”

“Whoops! Shit! Severus, I’m sorry,” Ron said, horrified. “Hang on, lemme find my wand…”

“It’s fine, really,” Severus said grumpily through his hands, gingerly holding onto his damaged beak. “No need for any healer activity.”

“I truly am sorry, but damn, I finally got you to admit that I’m not a brat anymore,” Ron said with a grin. He ruffled the black hair of his partner slightly, knowing it would elicit another scowl. Without waiting for the inevitable, Ron dove back into Severus’s arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck and wrapping his legs around the hips of his lover’s. “Mmmm…I could stay like this all night.”

“One more minute and I’m rising up,” Severus muttered into the coppery hair. “I have papers to mark and…”

“It’s Friday, Severus! Take it easy, why don’t you? I only get one Friday off a month, and I even managed to get tomorrow off as well, or did you forget?” Ron protested, hugging the thin man closer. “And since it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend, you can sleep in late, so I intend to keep you up very late doing all sorts of wicked and erotic things to and with your body.”

Severus huffed a bit, but brushed Ron’s forehead with his lips. “No, I hadn’t forgotten that have chosen for some inexplicable reason to spend one of your precious free weekends with me here at the castle. You could be off in London or visiting your mother—which, by the way, you need to do—or spending time reading healing journals….”

“Don’t want to go to London, it’s noisy; checked in on Mum this afternoon—she’s responding better than I thought. Thanks for the suggestion for the blood strengthening potion; I think it’s made a significant difference. I read the latest issue of _Healer’s Weekly_ , and I have had an article coming out in next week’s edition, by the way.” All of this was said in between small nibbles and kisses along Severus’s jawline and collarbone.

The professor stretched his neck to the side oh-so subtly to encourage Ron’s attentions. “An article? And you did not think to give it to me to edit? Tell me about your….”

“You can read it next week, old man,” Ron shushed. “Right now, I have a much more important mission in mind and a … hello!…what’s this? Well, now, Severus, I’ll have to remember that talking about journal articles gives you this kind of reaction.” He gave the half-hard erection a tug. “You up for more this quickly?”

“No.” Severus jerked out of Ron’s embrace, and disentangled his legs. He sat up and made to get out of bed, but suddenly stopped, and turned back to look at Ron. The younger man wore a look of utter disappointment. “It’s just that,” Severus rubbed a finger on Ron’s cheek, “I don’t want to spend myself too quickly. The night is young.”

Ron’s face brightened. “Can we order something from the kitchen? I’m starving.” Ron bounced up and began searching about the chamber floor for clothing.

“Of course, and by the way, I invited Harry here tonight.”

Ron stopped pulling up his boxers mid-thigh. “Harry? Here? Why?”

Severus pulled his dressing gown around his shoulders, and looked down as he tied the belt. “I thought it was time that you two saw each other again.”

Ron walked over to where Severus stood; the older man’s attentions were fixed on something on top of the bureau. He reached over and took the thin hands in his own. “Severus. Why?”

Severus fixed his gaze now into Ron’s clear eyes. The black eyes were at first inscrutable, but then they softened and Ron was certain he detected a bit of sadness. “Ron, I know I’m not the one you’re destined to be with for all time.” Ron opened his mouth, but Severus shook his head. “I know this is true. And it is fine with me. I know about your little—arrangement with Harry. And no, he didn’t tell me. I have my sources.” He pulled them both over to the bed and they sat. “I happen to know that a lot of the difficulties you have had with him since we started—seeing each other—don’t deny it—have been because everyone thought Harry believed that, well, I would in some way end up hurting you.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “It’s none of their damn business. Including Harry.”

“No, that’s not true. You are Harry’s business. You always have been.” Severus shifted a bit, trying to find words that were so hard for him to say. “I always knew you had something special with him. Ever since you were students here. At first I thought it was just being best friends, but seeing you together for so long, during the war and after, and then you both finally coming out…well, I could see that what you have is no ordinary relationship—friendship or romantic or otherwise. No, Ron, you have something with him that goes far deeper than what most people are privileged to have with another human being.

“That is why I have asked him to come here tonight under the pretext of having a drink with me. Alone.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” He grinned slyly and shook his head. “And he accepted?” Severus wagged his hand back and forth, making Ron laugh. “I’ll bet he was non-committal. Good god, it probably set him off, thinking you’re making a play for him.”

Severus gave a rather evil grin as he stood. “That’s not all. I’m afraid I really did make—ah, a bit of a pass at him. Actually, I’ve been toying with him all week.”

Ron laughed out loud, falling back onto the bed. “Oh god, what a mindfuck! You really know how to mess with him, you know that?”

Severus pulled a pair of lounging trousers on under the silk dressing gown. “Yes, I do. Know thine enemy, then fuck with him mercilessly. Which is how I survived my dual life for so long.” He opened the door to the bedchamber. Do you still want anything from the kitchen? Because…”

*~*

“…I presume my guest will be arriving very soon.”

Harry jumped back. “Um, Sn--, uh, Severus.” He was just about to open the door to the bedchamber when Snape appeared.

“Ah, Harry. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He came fully through the door and pulled it closed behind him. “Please. Come have a seat.”

“I’m sorry, but are you—do you have—company?” Harry’s mind quickly inventoried what he knew about the evening: Ron was at home; Snape invited him for a drink. Just who in the hell was in there?

“Why yes, I do have company. You, as it turns out,” Severus said smoothly. “Scotch?”

“Um, yeah, I mean, yes, please.” Harry was trying to process all the information quickly. So, Snape—no, Severus—had someone _in his bedroom?_

Severus handed Harry a crystal tumbler. “Harry, sit down. You look like you’re about to topple over.”

Harry looked around and located a high-backed armchair and side table. “Excuse me, but, um, do you have someone here with you?” he said as he put the tumbler on the table. “I mean, there’s someone here other than me?” He finally put the facts together: Someone other than Ron was in Snape’s bedroom. “And is someone other than Ron in your bedchamber?” The tone was accusatory.

The door opened at that moment, and Ron came into the room. “Last time I checked I was still Ron and the only one allowed access into Severus’s bedroom.” He crossed the room to where a very confused Harry stood, evaluating the situation as it took another radical turn. “Hello, Harry.” Severus handed him a tumbler, and he sat on the sofa next to Severus, who was watching the young professor closely.

Harry shook his head and dropped heavily into the chair. He reached over and took a healthy swig of the amber liquid and coughed. “God, what is this? It tastes like a peat fire.”

“That’s because scotch is supposed to be sipped, not chugged like a common bottle of butterbeer, Potter!” Severus said sharply. Ron laid a quiet hand on his thigh and gave him a look. “Trying sipping it slowly. Laphroaig is something of an acquired taste.”

“I’ll say,” Ron said. “It took forever for me to get used to it, but like Severus said, it’s something you have to take in in small bits.”

Harry’s eyes darted between the two as he sipped—slowly—the scotch. He was trying to decide which question to ask first. His eyes landed on Ron—Ron in a forest green dressing gown (when in the hell did Ron ever wear a _dressing gown?_ )—Ron sipping expensive scotch, sitting next to Severus, with his hand on his thigh.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted. “I thought you were going to see your mum tonight.”

“Did it this afternoon. She’s feeling loads better, thanks to some adjustments in her treatment suggested by Severus. She also says hello to you, by the way. You need to go see her.”

“Yeah, I will once the term lets up a bit,” Harry said, looking into the empty tumbler. All of a sudden, a hand holding a decanter of scotch appeared under Harry’s eyes. He looked up to see Severus with a question on his face. Harry nodded. “Yes, please.” He took a sip after it was refilled. “And so what is this about? I-I hadn’t expected to see the two of you here. Together.” He took another sip. “Sorry, this has caught me by surprise.”

Severus and Ron exchanged looks. “Harry, I must confess that I have brought you two here to be together,” Severus began, looking uncomfortable. “I-this is not me playing matchmaker, because that is not what I do.” Harry and Ron looked at each other, holding back the sniggers that were growing within. “But I have always known that you have a strong romantic attachment and an even stronger friendship. It is something that I have always been somewhat envious of you both for.” The young men continued to look at each other, taking in the heartfelt words of their former hated Potions professor. “That is why when I found out that you two had put your relationship on hold to ‘explore other possiblities’ that I thought it was absolutely ludicrous. How could you do this to yourselves?” Severus’s tone became indignant. “Did you actually believe that you would find someone who would love you better or deeper? Did you think that finding your heart’s desire so early in your lives was somehow foolish and should be set aside under the pretence of ‘waiting’? What are you waiting for? Some ideal age? Or are you out there fucking other people because you are too stupid to realize that life isn’t supposed to consist of meaningless relationships and bedmates?” Severus became more wound up, pacing and making stabbing gestures with his hands. “You two have what the rest of us are searching for, and what I have failed miserably to find. A love that runs deeper than love itself. A love that is, at its base, a friendship that will survive anything. Do you realize how rare that is?”

Ron stood and took Severus’s upper arms in his hands. “Stop this!” Severus sagged a bit “It’s not like that. Harry and I are not screwing up our relationship and we certainly don’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Harry stood as well. “Severus, this was something that Ron and I agreed on mutually. We broke up as a romantic couple, but not as friends. I don’t think I could go on living if Ron wasn’t my best mate,” he said, crossing the short distance to stand beside the two men. Ron put his arm about Harry’s shoulders. “But we needed to be with other people, just to make sure that we truly were right for each other. I—we were afraid that since Hogwarts we might have grown apart while we pursued our careers. I mean, the years after the war were really hard, for all of us, I know. But I was so—confused. And lost. Ron was my anchor, but I was afraid that I had tied him down, depended on him too much, and in the process, stifled him too much.” Ron held him closer. “We needed the time apart. Mostly to grow up, but also to see if we could just be friends.”

“We didn’t really consider what this was doing to other people,” Ron added. “I know I’ve always been very clear with anyone I’ve been with that it was pretty short term, and they all were okay with that.”

“And I’ve only been with a couple of people, mostly because, well, I don’t trust anyone much,” Harry said. “Too many people out there still want to fuck the image, not be with me.”

Ron hugged him. “I know this has been hard on you, mate. But I’ve always believed what you told me, that you were okay with our arrangement and that you weren’t ready to get back together as a couple.” Ron took Harry’s hand in his. “I’m guessing you’re ready.”

“No! Not while you and Severus are still good,” Harry said, trying to pull away. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Ron refused to let go.

“Harry, please sit,” Severus said, and he stood to face them. “There is something that I must tell you, something that not even Ron may be aware of.”

Ron looked at him quizzically. “Severus?”

Severus knelt in front of Ron, but did not touch him. “Several times, mostly while he slept, Ron has said your name, Harry.” Ron’s eyes widened. “Two days ago, I awoke early and decided to awaken Ron by—well, by sexual means. While I was occupied in such activity, Ron called me Harry. The entire time. Obviously, that is something that you two engaged in frequently enough to become embedded deeply into Ron’s subconscious mind.” Ron looked shocked.

Severus continued: “The mind is a strange and wonderful place. We can control it utterly while we are awake, some of us better than others. But when we are unaware and disengaged, it can reveal our deepest secrets, even those that are unknown to us. Unless we train it to block out unwanted invasions.” Both younger men were transfixed by the softly spoken words. Severus then looked directly at Ron. “I do not doubt that you have affectionate feelings for me. You are not so cynical and hardened that you would toy with me in retribution for my behavior towards you in your youth. That much I have learned about you, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron squeezed Severus’s shoulder. “Severus, I am so sorry. I had no idea that I was saying Harry’s name.”

The older man smiled. “Of course you didn’t. But it did point out to me just how much Harry meant to you, and just how significant your connection is to him.”

Harry looked between the two. “Look, it happens. It doesn’t mean that Ron isn’t happy with you. I know he is.”

“And you.” Severus turned to regard Harry, and put his hand on the younger man’s knee. “I see how you look at Ron. Today at lunch, I could see the loss in your face. You miss him very much.” He then gave him a faint smile. “I am pleased that we seem to have set aside our earlier—animosity towards one another. You are a valued colleague and I have come to respect you for the talented professor that you are.”

Harry looked somewhat dazed at the praise. “Thank you.”

“And you are a very handsome young man.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other and then at their former professor. A sly grin stole across Ron’s face. “Should we tell him?”

Harry smirked. “Well, do you think he can handle it?”

“I think so.”

Severus looked at the two, who were grinning widely and snorting. “What do you think I can handle?”

Together they said, “Severus Snape, you sexy bitch!”

Ron gently tackled his current lover, lowering him to the floor, and giving him an ardent kiss. Harry fell back onto the sofa, laughing. “Gods, I can’t believe we told him that,” he gasped. “Do you remember when we both came to that realization?”

“Gods, I thought we’d both gone barmy.”

Severus struggled to sit upright. “You both?”

“Well, Harry here told me one night when we got very, very drunk that he thought I should kill him because he no longer thought you to be a…well, something we used to call you back when were we students,” Ron said, helping Severus off of the floor.

Harry nodded. “It’s true. All of a sudden, one day, I just thought you were sexy in that brooding, aloof, mysterious sort of way. But of course, I couldn’t say anything because, well, you’re my colleague, and that would be somewhat awkward.” Harry blushed furiously. “I mean, I couldn’t very well approach my senior colleague in a way that was, uh, less than professional.”

Ron pulled Harry off of the sofa and into his arms. “And here I thought you were mad at me for being involved with someone you hated.”

“Well, not exactly hated. Got brassed off at, yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You have to admit you are pretty tough on me, even in front of the students, Severus.”

“And you have become an even better teacher because of it. I’ve taught you how to think quickly, rationally, and without resorting to baser means of settling disagreements,” Severus said.

“You really think I’m handsome?”

“I would not say it if I did not mean it; yes, you are a pleasant to look at. Must be your mother’s influence. She was a beautiful woman.” And then Severus touched Harry’s face.

Harry was enthralled with the gentle touch. The long fingers were warm and inviting; they lingered on his cheek and then slid down along his jawline. Harry closed his eyes, not quite believing what was happening to him. Another set of fingers joined the others on the other side of his face. They were strong and slightly calloused and familiar. It was interesting to have fingers from two different people massaging your face. Harry pushed into the touch from the both of them. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in such a careful, loving, erotic way. He shivered as the fingers passed over his scar, still so sensitive after all these years. One finger traced the scar as it started in his hairline, made the famous twist and then ended just above the brow; another followed, tracing along the same path. Then, warm lips replaced the narrow pads. Harry opened his eyes just as he caught Ron’s. He reached up and captured Ron’s lips with his, and with practiced ease they deepened the kiss immediately. A hand squeezed his shoulder and then let go; Ron broke the kiss.

“No,” he said. “Stay. Make love with us.”

Severus shook his head. “I would only be in the way.”

Ron looked at Harry and gave him the faintest quirk of an eyebrow. “Severus, please,” Harry breathed, and reached his hand out to him.

The older man held his breath for a moment, then, reached down to take their hands in his, pulling them up from the floor of sitting room. “Come with me.”

He led them into the dimly lit bedchamber, and then crawled to the center of the bed, a larger version of the Hogwarts student four-poster. Harry was slightly dazed to find that the hangings were a rich brown rather than Slytherin green. The chamber gave an aura of warmth and comfort.

Ron immediately shed his robe and clambered onto the bed, taking Severus into his arms. Harry stood awkwardly at the foot, not sure what to do next. Ron looked so hot and shaggable in just his short boxers. He peeled back the black dressing gown from Severus’s shoulders with practiced ease to reveal a body, thin and pale, but lightly muscled and in good shape. But when Severus turned to face him, it was only then that he saw disfigurement: etched into the skin of his chest were several long, wide, jagged scars. One ran from under his heart, slashing across the abdomen and ending at the opposite hip. Another was as wide as a finger span and split his torso from stem to stern. It was hard to ignore them.

Whatever reservations Harry may have harbored toward this man fell away in a breath as the depth of Severus’s sacrifice registered. This man—this uncompromising, hard, uncompassionate man—paid for his duplicity and his service to the Light with his mind, his body, his honor. It was overwhelming to watch his best mate lovingly rub each scar with his soft lips, as if he could soothe the mutilation with his devotion and love; his attention to each inch of broken skin was an act of unselfish worship. And Harry was undone. _I am not worthy._

Ron broke their kiss and then reached over to take Harry’s hand. “You’re over-dressed,” he murmured, as he worked at the fastenings of Harry’s robe. Severus slid it off of his shoulders from behind, as Ron went to work on the belt buckle. The pullover went up and over his head. Hands touched him everywhere, and the reverence of the moment gave way to the need to feel and to give. He thought he could not be aroused more quickly or more thoroughly.

Harry was amazed at how quickly he could be divested of clothing with two of them working on him. He gave a nervous giggle at the thought.

“Ticklish, Mr. Potter?” a low voice said in his ear. Long, warm fingers splayed across his chest and then tenderly pinched his nipples.

“Ungh, uh, not really,” Harry said. He gasped when Ron finally removed his boxers and engulfed his erect cock in his mouth. _That’s it. I am going to die of sensory overload._ Ron had a remarkable way with his tongue, something he did that made Harry’s eyes roll back into his head. But coupled with Severus’s astonishing fingers that seemed to blaze hot trails everywhere they touched him, Harry truly believed he would spontaneously combust. He knew he was close, and he tried to tell Ron. But Ron’s head popped up and pulled away just at the last minute.

“Didn’t think I remembered when to stop?” he breathed in Harry’s ear. Ron then raised up and gave Severus a searing kiss.

Harry was caught in between them, and truth be told, rather enjoying the odd feeling of two chests—one lightly hairy, then other completely bare. A nipple grazed Harry’s lip, so he trapped it between his lips. A groan came from one of the chests. _Hair, that’s Ron._ He knew what to do with Ron, and he bit down slightly harder. It earned him a moan and a muttered,“Fuck.”

Harry closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of having Ron’s nipple in his mouth again. He laved it feverishly, raising it to a hard nub, and nipped it again and again. Then, he turned his attention to the other one, working his tongue around and around the hard center, nibbling on it. He snaked his free hand down to grasp the hard cock, working the warm pre-come all over the head and pulling hard. Another soft, “Fuck.” God, how he’d missed Ron’s profane confirmations.

A hand had taken his own penis and was working it expertly, grasping the scrotum and pressing an insistent finger just behind it and making small, white stars explode in his closed eyes. He could not help a small moan of his own.

“Just relax and let it go,” Severus whispered. “Enjoy the feeling.”

Suddenly, it was all Ron—Ron’s lips on his, Ron’s tongue rolling around with his, Ron’s hands in his hair, on his body, touching his arse; Ron’s fingers probing, touching, questing, finding, breeching, invading—and ohgoditfeltsogoodsogoodsogood— balmy, slippery liquid easing the way—one, two fingers—touching, feeling, stretching. Words of love and reunion: “Missed you, missed this. Sogoodsogoodsogood. Touch me, Harry… Harry... HarryHarryHarry.” A hot, insistent hard cock inside, sliding, sliding in, sliding out, “Oh god, that’s brilliant. Yes, fuck thatissogoodsogoodsogood.” And then Ron was coming, coming hard with a cry, “Fuck, yes, oh god yes, Harry.” And so was Harry, “Ron, Ron, oh god Ron.”

Exhausted and sated, overjoyed and relieved to be together once again, Harry and Ron slipped into a lovers’ sleep, tightly entwined. They did not notice that their threesome had become just two as Severus quietly closed the door to his bedchamber.

*~*

He Floo’ed into Hawthorne Place, where he was met by a smiling Remus Lupin and a glass of merlot.

“So, did it go as planned?”

“Of course.”

Remus regarded Severus as the Potions master took a sip of the mellow red wine. “And how are you feeling?”

He grunted quietly as he slid into a comfortable chair by the fireplace. “Just this side of a marriage broker, and something of a voyeur.”

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Remus said neutrally.

“Stupid, as well.”

“Oh?”

“That they would allow anyone or anything to get between them and interrupt their life together.”

Again, Remus considered his words. “I don’t believe Ron and Harry allowed just anyone to come between them. I believe they permitted the person they trusted and respected the most to show them the way to the truth about who they are.” He rose, and touched Severus on the shoulder. “They were lucky. The guest room is ready. Good night, Severus.” He walked towards the staircase, and then turned and said, “Thank you.”

For a long time he stared into the dying embers of the fire. He twirled the stem of the now empty glass in his fingers, transfixed by the refraction of light through the swirls in the crystal. The dark orange flames danced through the glass, reminding him of coppery hair that once flowed through his fingers. For a fleeting moment he allowed the grief, the regret, the loneliness to wash over him. But only briefly, for in his mind’s eye he saw two hands, reaching out to him in invitation, in trust, in promise. And for the second time that evening, Severus Snape was at peace.

*~*  



End file.
